Quickly throwing her backpack to the ground so that she could move unencumbered by it's bulk, she rushed to Harm's side, her whole body trembling as she yanked off one of her gloves and, pushing the hood of his parka aside, pressed her fingers to his neck, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when she found his pulse, not as strong as normal, but at least steady.
"Harm? Can you hear me?" she pleaded, gently shaking his shoulder. She closed her eyes, trying to prevent the tears that involuntarily sprang into her eyes. No, this couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when Harm was so close to finding his brother. Not when they were so close to finding each other.
"Thank God!" she cried as Harm groaned, trying to push himself up. "Careful," she cautioned. "We don't know how badly you've been injured. Move slowly." She gently helped him roll onto his back, Harm moaning at the effort expended and the pain it caused. Mac bit her lip to keep from crying out when she the jagged piece of shrapnel that had punctured his thick parka, imbedding itself in the right side of his abdomen.
She scrambled back to her dropped pack, pulling out the first aid kit and a spare undershirt to press against the wound. "Harm, I'm going to try to remove this shrapnel," she informed him, "then I'll press this shirt to the wound, see if we can get the bleeding to slow down. You wouldn't happen to have any alcohol in your pack, would you?" She forced a grin at her last statement, trying to relieve the gravity of the situation.
"No," he managed to gasp. "But I'm sure if you ask Volkonov, he probably has some vodka. . . ." his voice trailed off and Mac clasped her hand to her mouth as both realized at the same time that they had nearly forgotten about him. "Mac. . . .check on him. He was ahead. . . .closer to the blast."
Mac nodded mutely, tears threatening as she climbed to her feet. Praying that her fears would be unrealized, she moved along the trail, taking only a few steps before she spotted Volkonov on his side slumped against a tree at the edge of the black scorch marks the indicated the blast area, the snow surrounding him red with blood. Taking a deep breath in an effort to quell the nausea, she forced herself to move forward, bending down to check his pulse. Closing her eyes, she said a brief prayer for the brave man who had volunteered for this mission to return a favor at the cost of his life. Resisting the urge to be sick, she made her way back to Harm's side, the tears freely falling.
Harm knew from the look on her face that the news wasn't good. "He's dead," he gasped, Mac nodding mutely as she folded the shirt she had retrieved. Pushing his coat and clothes aside as best she could, she slide the folded fabric underneath, prepared to slide it over the wound as soon as she removed the shrapnel. "Was it a land mine?" Again she nodded in reply.
Mac glanced at him, a question in her eyes. Harm nodded at her and she pulled at the shrapnel with a hard yank, wincing as he cried out in pain. The metal wouldn't budge and she whispered, "I'm sorry," as she tried again, this time managing to pull the metal out of the wound, quickly pressing the shirt against the wound as the blood flowed freer. Harm groaned again in pain and, one hand still pressing on the wound, she opened the first aid kit with the other, searching for painkillers. Pulling out a bottle of aspirin, she handed it to Harm who opened it with a little difficulty and removed three pills, instead of the usual two, and swallowed them dry.
"I need to try to bind this wound," she said, taking back the bottle of painkillers and tossing in the general direction of the first aid kit. "Then, we need to try and get out of here. I'll help you. We need to find a place to set up shelter and this trail isn't wide enough to put up the tent."
"I think I can manage," he said between gasps of breath as she took one of his hands and pressed it to the wound in place of hers. She began digging through her pack, searching for anything she could use to bind the wound. After pulling out an extra pair of long johns, she helped him move so that she could pull his pack, which he had been laying on, off his back, accompanied by more moans of pain from Harm. Digging through his pack, she produced another pair of long johns and another shirt.
Helping him sit up, moving slightly so that he could lean against her while still allowing her to work, she pulled off his parka and pushed aside the two shirts he was wearing, gasping at the sight of the shirt pressed against his wound, already soaked crimson. Taking a breath to steel herself, she began talking, trying to calm herself as much as him.
"I'm going to put another shirt over the wound," she told him as she folded the shirt in question. "Then I'll use the long johns to tie the shirts in place. I just hope the bindings to slip when we move. Speaking of which, I think we should go through our packs and see if there's anything we can get rid of. I want to try to get us down to one pack. You don't have the strength to carry one."
Harm nodded as she tied the makeshift bandage into place. "We need to get the radio out of Volkonov's pack and any food he has left," he pointed out quietly, his voice filled with pain. Mac nodded in return, despite her reluctance to go back over there. Harm hadn't asked for any details of Volkonov's condition and she hadn't volunteered any information. From the visual evidence, she knew his death had been horrifying and she found herself hoping for his sake that it had been quick.
After binding the wound, Mac helped Harm pull his clothes back into place and pulled his parka back on, making sure he was well protected against the cold. "Wait here a moment while I get the radio from Volkonov's pack," she told him. As she stood, Harm leaned to the side, slumping against his pack lying on the ground. After a few minutes, she returned carrying the radio and several ration packs. Handing the radio to him, she suggested, "Why don't you try to contact Grozny while I start going through our packs?"
Harm pushed himself back into an upright position, working on making the call as Mac began going through her things. Aside from the sleeping bags, rations, the tent in Harm's pack and the first aid kit, all of which were essentials, most of what was left was clothes. She considered tossing aside all the clothes except for a few items to use as bandages for Harm's wound, figuring that lightening their load was more important than being able to change clothes every day. Finally she decided to keep one change of clothes for each of them, just in case something happened, such as falling into water, making a change of clothes necessary.
Rolling her chosen clothes up, she moved back over to Harm, who was uttering soft curses under his breath. As she began going through his pack, he quietly said the words she probably least wanted to hear, "The radio's broken. It must have gotten knocked around in the blast."
"So we're stuck out here with no link to the outside world," she concluded as she tossed aside items from his pack, replacing them with the clothes she had chosen from hers and storing away the radio, hoping that the damage wasn't too severe and she could attempt to jury rig a fix later. Zipping the pack closed, she lifted it onto her back, testing the weight. It was a little heavy for her, but she hoped that it wouldn't be long until they found a place to set up camp. Of course, the pack would probably seem heavier once they were underway and she was having to help support Harm as well.
Harm began standing, but a wave of dizziness caused him to lose his balance, causing him to slump against Mac and nearly knocking both of them to the ground. With much effort, Mac managed to steady him, standing against his uninjured side as she put as arm around his waist. They took a few steps and Mac could see in his face that every step was a supreme effort. He noticed her concern and tried to shake it off. "I'll be fine," he insisted weakly.
Managing a weak smile, Mac reminded him, "Once, you made me a promise and now I'm going to make you the same one. I'm gonna get us out of this. I promise."
Harm smiled at the familiar words, more thankful than ever that she had refused to listen to him and had come along. He now realized that he'd never get through this without her, in fact, he might have been consigned to lying in the middle of a Chechen forest as he bled to death, cursing lost chances.
THE SAME TIME
JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
AJ strode into the bullpen earlier than usual, Clay right on his heels as he related the latest news he had heard from Grozny, reporting that Harm and Mac had found evidence that they were indeed on Sergei's trail. AJ inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that the news coming out of Russia seemed to be getting better.
Moving into his open outer office, he was surprised to find a couple waiting, a stylishly dressed woman nervously pacing the floor while the man sat, checking his watch. AJ had never seen them, but it wasn't hard to guess who they were. "Mr. and Mrs. Burnett?" he asked.
Trish stopped her pacing and turned towards him, nodding as Frank stood. "Yes," she replied. "I'm Trish and this is my husband Frank. We need. . . ." she trailed off, upset and Frank continued for her.
"We're trying to find out about our son, Admiral Chegwidden," he told AJ. "We've been trying to get a hold of him since he said that he was planning to go to Russia. We don't know if he went or not and we're concerned."
AJ opened his office and motioned them in. "Please, come in and we'll tell you what we know," AJ offered. Motioning to Clay, he made introductions. "Mr. and Mrs. Burnett, this is Clayton Webb with the State Department."
"We met," Frank said, nodding towards the other man. "He came out to see us during Harm's last trip to Russia, after he and Mac were reported shot down."
"Mr. Webb was just updating me on the latest news from Russia," AJ told them as everyone took seats. "Let me start at the beginning to get you caught up. Three days ago, Harm left for Russia accompanied by Colonel Mackenzie. With the help of a Major Sokol, they traveled to Chechnya to begin searching together with a colleague of Harm's from his last trip to Russia. The latest news, Mr. Webb was just telling me, is that as of a few hours ago they had found evidence of Sergeant Sergei Zhukov's trail and are following it."
"And this is the most recent news?" Frank asked for confirmation, clasping his wife's hand. Both looked relieved to know that Harm wasn't in this alone.
"Yes," Clay replied. "Harm and Mac are in radio contact with a friend of Major Sokol's who is a government official in Grozny. As Sokol hears from Grozny, he passes the information along to me."
"And they're sure that Sergei is still alive, that he hasn't been captured or killed?" Frank asked. "I know when Harm went to Russia the first time, even though it brought closure. . . .Harm took it hard that he wasn't able to find his father alive."
"The reports we're getting are that they're very confident they're on the right track and that Sergeant Zhukov is still alive," Clay confirmed.
"We're confident that it's only a matter of time before Harm and Mac find him and are on their way back home," AJ added, trying to ease the minds of parents concerned for their son. "Harm and Mac are two of the finest officers to serve under me and they've gotten out of tight situations before. I have every confidence they will make it out of this just fine."
"I hope so," Trish said softly, tears threatening. Wiping her eyes and smiling weakly, she apologized, "The last time I spoke to Harm, it wasn't a very pleasant conversation. I had been called by some reporter," she gestured to the Washington Post which had sat on AJ's desk for the last three days, "asking for a comment on a situation I knew nothing about. I was upset that Harm hadn't told me about it and I said some things. . . ." She trembled slightly as she thought about her only child being in a potentially deadly situation thinking that she was mad at him.
"Trish, I'm sure Harm understood," Frank insisted, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sure he doesn't hold it against you for being upset."
AJ gazed at them sympathetically. An idea occurring to him, he asked, "When did you get into DC? Have you gotten checked into a hotel yet?" Aside from their concern, both looked utterly exhausted.
"We just got here about two hours ago," Frank replied, "and came here straight from the airport by taxi. We've got reservations at the Inter-Continental but haven't checked in yet."
AJ looked at Clay expectantly. Clay understood the unspoken message and offered, "I need to go into DC. I'd be happy to drop the Burnetts off at their hotel and make sure they get settled."
"We appreciate that," Trish said softly.
AJ wrote out something on a notepad and tore off the page, handing it to Frank. "Here's the number for JAG," he said as Frank glanced at the paper. "Give me a call once you get settled with a number where you can be reached and as we get updates from Russia, I'll make sure they're passed on to you immediately."
"Thank you, Admiral Chegwidden," Trish said gratefully. "We appreciate all your help."
"Glad to do it," AJ said, standing to shake each of their hands. After Frank and Trish left the office, Clay hung back, giving AJ a knowing glance.
"You're not going to accept their resignations," Clay stated with an air of certainty.
AJ looked at Clay impassively, his arms folded across his chest. Clay continued, fighting back a grin, "You care too much. If you were just going to accept their resignations, you would have done so already and you wouldn't be putting as much effort into keeping up with their movements and reassuring those closest to them that everything is going to be okay." Before AJ could reply, Clay turned on his heel and walked out of the office.
AN HOUR LATER
CHECHEN FOREST
Mac stumbled against a tree, reaching out with her free hand to brace herself against it, her other arm around Harm's waist trying to hold him upright. His eyes were closed, his breathing was heavy and his face was white, all evidence of the extreme pain he was in. "We'll rest here for a few minutes," she gasped, helping him lean against the tree. "How are you feeling?"
"Hurts," he ground out through gritted teeth, clutching his side as he leaned back against the trunk of the tree. He resisted the urge to slide to the ground, afraid that once he was down, he would be unable to get up again. "Maybe. . . .you go ahead. . . .find help."
"I don't want to hear it," she insisted, struggling to draw air into her lungs in the frigid air. "I'm not leaving you out here to possibly freeze or bleed to death, so I don't want to hear any more talk like that. We find a place to set up shelter and work on trying to fix the radio. Got it?"
"What if. . . .can't fix radio?" he asked.
"Then we'll worry about that if and when it happens," she said firmly in a tone that indicated she wasn't going to accept any further arguments.
"Mac," Harm began, Mac shooting him a glare daring him to argue with her further. He shook his head. "No arguments," he insisted weakly. "Just. . . .thank you."
Mac was touched. Expressions of gratitude were often unspoken between them and to actually hear him say the words was one of the most precious experiences. Smiling at him, she replied in a teasing tone, "Normally, I'd say something about such an uncharacteristic statement coming from you, but I don't have the energy right now."
Harm managed a small grin at the remark as Mac let the backpack slip off her shoulders and to the ground, flexing her shoulders, trying to ease the ache in her muscles. "Maybe we should eat a little something," she suggested, leaning over to open her pack. "We need to keep our energy up. We don't know how long we'll be walking before we find a place for shelter." Opening a ration pack, she handed him a slice of jerky and took one for herself. "Fortunately, the weather does seem to be better," she continued as she ate, "which gives us one less thing to worry about for now. At least we can still see another set of footprints, which gives us hope that we are still following Sergei's trail."
"I hope," Harm replied, looking down at the ground. He'd come halfway around the world to rescue his brother and not only had he not found him yet, one man was dead and it was only through Herculean effort that he was able to keep moving long enough for them to find shelter. A man's death was now on his head and Mac had been forced to kill a boy, all because of his obsessions.
"Harm, try not to think about it," Mac pleaded. "I know it's hard to right now, our primary mission is survival. That's what we have to concentrate on."
"I know," he said quietly, finishing off his jerky. "Let's move."
"Are you sure you don't want to rest some more?" she asked, greatly concerned about pushing him too hard in his weakened condition.
"Shelter, then rest," he insisted.
Nodding reluctantly, she took up her backpack again and then helped him begin moving again. She tightly clasped the hand draped over her shoulder, praying that she had enough strength for both of them.
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER
Mac was to exhausted to even breathe a sigh of relief when they finally stumbled upon a run down cabin about fifty yards off the trail they were following. They were barely through the door before they collapsed to the floor, Harm groaning in pain. "You okay?" Mac asked worriedly.
"I'll be fine," Harm insisted wearily. "But I think I'll just lie here for a while."
Mac looked up at the damaged ceiling above their heads. "At least we have a roof over our heads," she said, then laughed weakly. "Well, kind of. With the dirt floor, we can still put up the tent for extra protection from the elements." Slipping off the backpack, she climbed to her knees and began going through it, pulling the tent out.
"Mac, take a break," Harm suggested, a hand on her arm. "You need to rest."
Mac shook her head. "No," she insisted, her lower lip trembling slightly. "I can rest after I get this tent up and get you taken care of."
Harm didn't have the strength to argue with her, watching silently as she struggled to put together the tent, which was really a two person job. Finally, she got the tent assembled and laid out their sleeping bags inside. She turned around to find him crawling towards her, the agony of every movement evident on his face.
She moved to help him, but he shook her off, climbing through the tent opening and into a sleeping bag. Exhaling with relief that he had made it, he closed his eyes. Satisfied that he appeared to be comfortable for the moment, she made a quick visual inspection of the binding on his wound, satisfied that it had held and the bleeding, while not having stopped completely, did appear to have slowed. Unfortunately, the only thing that would likely stop the bleeding would be stitching the wound, which she didn't have the supplies to do.
Covering the wound again, she left the tent, returning a moment later with the backpack, setting it next to her sleeping bag. She climbed into her bag, moving around restlessly within the confines of the narrow space, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. After a moment, she heard Harm's voice. "Mac?" he asked, sounding a bit hesitant.
"Hmmm?" she murmured in reply.
"Come here," he suggested, holding out his arm. She scooted closer to him, snuggling against his uninjured left side, her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. She smiled as she remembered another night in the wilderness when they had snuggled up together to sleep. She closed her eyes, her features relaxing as she allowed herself to forget for the time being everything except the man in whose arms she rested.
THREE HOURS LATER
LUBYANKA PRISON
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
"Shto?" Sokol demanded into the phone angrily. "Vy uvyerenny?" He frowned as he listened to the voice on the other end. What? Are you sure?
"Nyet, nada znayu bol'she!" he insisted. "Uznavaesh!" He slammed down the phone, running a hand over his head. He couldn't call Clay with this. There were just too many unknowns. Taking a deep breath, he resolved not to say anything until he knew more. Meanwhile, he cursed that Mac had yet again followed Harm on one of his damned crusades. First Siberia, then Khankala Army Base and now this. No, I need to know more! Find out!
THE SAME TIME
CHECHEN FOREST
Mac awoke with a start, not entirely sure why. She quickly determined that they had been sleeping for nearly three hours. Propping herself up on one elbow, being careful not to disturb Harm, she looked down at him, who appeared to be sleeping relatively peacefully. Pressing her hand to his forehead showed no sign of fever, for which she was thankful. She closed her eyes, intending to settle back into sleep, her head nestled against his shoulder, but a moment later she sat straight up in the sleeping bag, her eyes wide open, when she heard the unmistakable sound of a branch snapping outside.
As Mac pulled on her gloves, which she had earlier taken off, and grabbed her rifle, Harm stirred next to her. "What?" he murmured sleepily.
"I don't know," she whispered, keeping her voice down in case it was not an animal as she hoped but one of the rebels. "I thought I heard something outside." As quietly as possible, she checked her clip while Harm looked at her with concern.
"It could just be an animal," he pointed out, trying to push himself into a sitting position as well, grimacing in pain. Mac placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.
"You're in no condition to do anything," she reminded him. "I'll check it out and be right back. And if it is an animal, maybe we'll have something to eat besides field rations." He grimaced at the thought and she nearly laughed at the idea of Harm being forced to eat meat.
"Mac?" he said seriously, grabbing her arm as she tried to climb out of the sleeping bag. She looked down at him, expecting an admonishment to be careful, so she was caught completely off guard when he moved his hand to her shoulder, pulling her down to him, stunning her with a tender kiss.
"We'll talk when I get back," she promised as she pulled away, expecting him to back off yet again.
He surprised her even more by nodding his agreement. "Yes," he promised. "We will talk."
Harm's eyes on her, Mac climbed out of her sleeping bag, out of the tent and silently crept towards the door, holding her rifle ready. Stopping at a window, she knelt below it, peeking up through the broken panes of glass, searching in the dark for any sign of movement.
"Astanovka!" she called out firmly. "U menya est' vintovka!" Stop! I have a rifle!
Mac couched under the window, listening into the darkness, positive that if there was someone out there, there was only one. If there had been more, surely they would have rushed the place as soon as she had spoken or she would have heard more noise from outside.
After a moment, she heard a weak voice from outside somewhere near the door. "Pazhalsta," the voice pleaded. "Ya baleyu. Ya dolzhen imet' ubyesnshche." Please. I'm ill. I must have shelter.
"Moment," Mac said, scooting back over to the tent. Harm looked at her questioningly. Just a moment.
"There is someone out there," she whispered. "He claims he's ill and needs shelter."
"He's probably a rebel," he reminded her, keeping his voice low.
"Yes, and I will be careful," she promised, patting her rifle. "If he is a rebel and lying about being ill, he'll be sorry he messed with this Marine." Harm managed a smile at the assertion.
Slowly, she made her way to the door, opening it just a crack, sticking the business end of the rifle through the opening. After a moment, she pushed the door open and took a cautious step out, on high alert for any signs of attack. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure slumped against the wall to her right.
Pointing her rifle directly at him, she insisted, "Tvoy kistey! Padnimaesh' ony!" Your hands! Raise them!
Slowly, he did so and looked up at Mac, a pleading look on his frostbitten face. Sighing with relief, Mac shouldered her rifle and helped him to his feet. Studying his white face, she switched to English. "I do believe you actually look worse than your brother does."
"Colonel Mackenzie?" Sergei asked hesitantly, wondering if he was dreaming. She couldn't be here. She was back in Washington with his brother. That's it, he was dreaming. He'd been out in the cold and the snow for too long and he was starting to hallucinate. But the arm wrapped around him felt so real.
"Come on, let's get you inside," Mac said, half supporting, half carrying him through the door. He was very unsteady on his feet and Mac wondered if the frostbite that was evident on his face was present on his other extremities. At least Harm's injury she could perform first aid on, keeping it bandaged in an attempt to stop the bleeding. But she couldn't do anything about frostbite out here in the wilderness. Sergei needed adequate medical attention just as much as Harm did, maybe even more considering how long he'd been out here.
Harm's eyes went wide as Mac and Sergei came through the door and he promptly tried to get up, momentarily forgetting about his own injury. But the sharp, burning pain in his side reminded him and he feel back to the floor, gritting his teeth, trying not to cry out.
"Stay there," Mac ordered, shaking her head. "The last thing I need is you making your injury worse by not staying put, especially now that I've got two of you to take care of."
Chastised, Harm asked, "How is he?"
"Is that you, big brother?" Sergei asked, his words slightly slurred. Harm looked at Mac with concern.
"I think he's a little delirious," Mac replied, "from being out in the cold so long. He's definitely got some frostbite and hypothermia has likely set in. Think you can reach over and unzip my sleeping bag? I want to get him in it and try to warm him up."
Harm managed to unzip the bag as far as he could and pushed the flap to the side as Mac helped Sergei into the tent and then into the sleeping bag, zipping it back up around him. He promptly settled in to sleep, but Mac gently shook him and he looked up at her with tired eyes.
"Stay with us just a little bit longer," she encouraged as she turned around to retrieve the first aid kit from the backpack. Opening it, she dug around, pulling out a thermometer and sticking it in his mouth. "I want to try to get you warmed up some before you sleep. Are you wearing any wet clothes?"
Sergei tried to open his mouth to speak, but Mac shook her head, so he settled for a simple shake in response. Mac breathed a sigh of relief that it was one less thing to worry about. Now she just had to get both him and Harm to hang on until someone stumbled across them or Harm and Sergei were well enough that they could risk moving again. Unfortunately, she knew that the latter scenario was not very likely, but they might not have a choice but to go with that option. Both needed medical attention as soon as possible.
Mac took the thermometer out of Sergei's mouth and read it, doing a quick conversion from Celsius to Fahrenheit in her head. About ninety-four degrees. As she recalled from her basic survival training, the threshold for hypothermia was ninety-five. Now that it was confirmed, Mac knew the best she could do would be to keep him dry and to warm him up as much as possible. At least that was more than she could do for the frostbite.
Pushing back the hood of her parka, she pulled off the knit cap she was wearing underneath and helped Sergei put it on his head over the cap from his pilot's uniform. Mac was amazed that he wasn't worse off considering how little head protection he'd had. Must be that Rabb stubbornness and determination, she thought, smiling slightly despite the seriousness of the situation. "Are you going to be warm enough?" she asked. "Would you like a blanket as well?"
Sergei shook his head. "Sleeping bag. . . .very warm," he murmured drowsily, pulling the flap up over his head. Feeling she had done the best that she could for him for the time being, she promised herself to check on him every hour or so. Going around Sergei, she crawled to Harm's side.
"How is he?" he asked quietly, careful not to disturb Sergei, whose even breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep.
Mac stretched out on her side next to him on the cold dirt floor and whispered in reply, not pulling any punches, realizing that Harm would know if she was holding back, "His temperature is ninety-four degrees, which is just below the threshold for hypothermia. He had mild frostbite on his face and ears. I don't know about his hands and feet. I didn't want to uncover them and risk any further damage than what might already be there. Fortunately, other than some obvious cuts and bruises on his face, he doesn't really show signs of other crash-related injuries. He's very lucky in that regard."
"We still need to get him medical attention," Harm concluded.
"I can attempt to keep the hypothermia at bay," she explained, "but out here, I can't really do anything for the frostbite. Conventional wisdom says not to warm body parts that might freeze again. That could cause even more damage."
Harm paused for a moment to think. He had an idea, but he had the feeling that Mac was not going to be too happy about it. "Do you have an estimate on how far we are from the highway?" he asked.
"I think we've actually moved back towards the road as we've continued," she replied, curious where he was going with that line of questioning. She knew for sure that they weren't close enough to the road to be seen from it. "I'd have to check the map and GPS, but I'd say a kilometer, maybe two."
"Mac, what if you head back for the road and try to get to the car in the morning," he suggested. At the disapproving look on her face, he added, "No, wait and hear me out. If you can get to the road, get the car and drive it up close enough that Sergei and I should be able to make it to the car, then we can get back to Grozny."
"Harm, I can't just leave you and Sergei here," she protested. "Neither of you is in any condition to take care of yourselves, let alone each other. And what if the car isn't there any more? It could have been stolen. Or what if it's been damages by shells or passing troops? I can't take the risk on something that might not pan out."
"Mac, you can't not take the risk," Harm pointed out. "You said your that you can't treat Sergei's frostbite and that there only limited treatment you can give for the hypothermia. Then there's my wound from the land mine. I don't like the idea of sending you out there alone, not after everything that we've already been through on this trip. But be honest, what are the odds of someone finding us out here in the middle of the woods? Yes, we have been keeping in contact with Grozny and they will notice when we don't check in, but will they even know where to begin looking for us? What if circumstances – renewed fighting for instance – prevent them from looking for us? How long can we really hold out here?"
Mac looked down at the ground, knowing that he was right. But there was still a part of her that was scared that if she left, something would happen to Harm – or Sergei – without her and she knew she couldn't live with that. "I'll leave the first thing in the morning," she conceded.
"Good," Harm said, reaching up to brush his fingers over her cheek, tracing the edge of the bandage. "How is this feeling?"
"It's okay," she replied, diverting her eyes. He promptly lifted her chin to look into her eyes.
"Do I have to take off the bandage and check for myself?" he asked softly.
Under his persistent gaze, she relented. "It still burns and that area of my face feels warm," she conceded. "I'll definitely need antibiotics myself."
Satisfied, Harm changed the subject. "You should get some rest if you're going to head for the car in the morning," he said, unzipping his sleeping back and pushing the top aside.
Mac looked at him confused. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"You gave up your sleeping bag to Sergei," he pointed out, shifting so that he was lying on his uninjured left side. He patted the space beside him. "You need a place to sleep."
"We have a couple of blankets in the backpack," she said. "I'll just use those and sleep on the floor."
"No, you won't," he insisted. "If we lay on our sides, it will be tight, but there will be room for both of us in here."
Nodding at his reasoning, she climbed into the sleeping bag, settling in with her back against his chest. The position left her lying on the side of her face that was bandaged and she bit back a groan of pain.
"Mac, turn around so that you're lying on your other side," Harm encouraged her. "You're not going to get any sleep lying on the side of your face like that."
Hesitantly, Mac turned over, a part of her being uncomfortable being in such an intimate position with Harm, while another part of her wanted nothing more than to lose herself in his arms. Not entirely sure of Harm and his feelings, she lay there stiffly, afraid to get too close. Harm slid an arm under her and pulled her closer to him so that she was snuggled up against his chest. After a moment, wondering just why he was being so tender, she closed her eyes against the tears threatening and relaxed in his arms.
THE NEXT MORNING
Mac awoke the next morning feeling remarkably refreshed, considering that she had woken up, thanks to her internal clock, every so often to check on Sergei. Fortunately, upon satisfying herself that he was doing as well as could be expected, she had fallen promptly back asleep.
Sometime after her last check of Sergei, Harm had rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him so that she awoke half lying on top of him, her arm draped over his chest and his wrapped around her back. She propped herself up on an elbow and watched him sleep, looking remarkably peaceful in slumber despite the pain he must be feeling. After a moment, his eyes fluttered open.
"Morning," he said.
"Good morning," she replied, slightly embarrassed to be caught staring at him. "How are you feeling?"
"Not bad," he replied, gently pushing her away so that he could slide out from under her. She tried to cover her hurt reaction, but he noticed. "Mac, I have to, um, nature calls."
Mac flushed red with embarrassment. "Oh, sorry," she said, unzipping the sleeping bag and crawling out, standing by to assist him in getting up. With her help, he manage to climb to his feet, his hand against his side as he gritted his teeth against the pain. They slowly made their way outside, Mac standing in wait beside the door while Harm made his way around the side of the cabin, leaning against the side of the building for support.
While she was waiting for him to return, Mac reflected on everything that had happened the last few days. How had everything gotten so jumbled up? When she had agreed to switch Mic's ring over, she had truly believed that she was doing the right thing. Or had she only managed to convinced herself of that because she and Harm were so far apart? Even taking Mic's ring in the first place, she had to admit to herself, had been more about reacting to Harm's rejection on the ferry rather than any feelings she might have had for Mic. Then, as soon as she had moved the ring over, everything had been thrown up in the air again by Harm's announcement that he was planning to resign his commission. Consciously, she'd convinced herself until that moment that she'd buried any feelings she'd had for Harm. Unconsciously, she had to wonder if a part – maybe a large part – of her had been using Mic to try and force Harm's hand regarding his feelings for her.
Sighing sadly, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, humming softly to herself, wishing this could all be easier. She didn't realize that she was alone until she heard Harm speak. "That sounds beautiful," he commented as she opened her eyes. "What is it?"
"Just a song I heard on the radio," she replied vaguely, shrugging. "I thought it was a beautiful song."
Harm stared at her intently as he sat down on a tree stump, wondering what she wasn't telling him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he sensed that the song seemed to affect her deeply. Gently, he pressed the issue, "Do you know the words? I'd like to hear them."
Reluctantly, Mac nodded. "After I heard the song," she explained softly, her voice distant, "I went out the next morning and bought the CD that the song is on. I've got the song memorized now, it's been running through my head so much." Softly, hesitantly, she began to sing 'My One True Friend', avoiding looking at Harm.
As her voice trailed off, she felt Harm take her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, much as he had done that night at the wall, right before he had noticed the ring. She felt compelled to explain, "I first heard that song the night before we left Washington, when I got home after you left me at the Wall. It just. . . .it spoke to me."
"We never did have that talk last night," he pointed out, tugging on her hand gently to pull her towards him. When she was close enough, he took her other hand and looked up at her while she continued to look down at the ground.
"I guess the timing was wrong," she said, her voice filled with regret. Not that she'd blamed Sergei. He was, after all, the reason they were in Chechnya in the first place. "I wonder if it will ever be right."
"We will have that talk. . . .Sarah," he told her, her head jerking up at her name coming from his lips. "I promise that and I promise that it won't be like before."
Like before, Mac thought bitterly. Like the ferry, the single event that had started the journey they'd begun ten months ago. Maybe they needed to close the circle back to that night before they could move forward. Slowly, she nodded. They would have their talk. They had to at this point or neither of them could move forward, whether together or separately.
"You should eat something before you leave," Harm said, dropping her hands as he dropped the subject. "You'll need your strength."
Mac nodded, silently agreeing to drop the subject for now. This wasn't the time or place, not with their survival still of paramount concern and with Sergei only feet away. She put her arm around him and helped him up, supporting him as they went back into the cabin.
Inside, they found Sergei awake and outside the tent, standing at one of the broken windows, looking out into the frozen woods. Harm managed a smile as he said, "Someone's looking better than he did last night."
Sergei turned around slowly, his movements still somewhat affected by the hypothermia and the cold, although he wasn't stumbling and out of it as he had been the night before. "Brother," he said softly, immediately embracing Harm. "What are you doing here?"
"Finding you," Harm replied, thinking that few sights had ever looked so good as his brother standing in front of him. "Someone had to rescue your six."
Sergei nodded, remembering the story his mother had told about how Harm had traveled halfway around the world to discover their father's fate. Despite the circumstances surrounding his birth and their meeting a couple months earlier, it warmed Sergei to realize just how much he meant to his brother.
"Thank you," Sergei replied as Mac went into the tent to get some breakfast for all of them, leaving Harm leaning against the wall.
"So how did you end up back here at the cabin?" Mac asked when she returned, handing each of them some rations. "We thought from the tracks in the snow that you were ahead of us."
"I was," Sergei revealed, tearing open his food pack. "I saw the cabin, but it was still daylight so I kept moving. But it was getting dark and the Chechens were still after me, so I turned around. I thought I could find shelter and confuse the rebels."
"I guess it's a good thing for all of us that you did turn back," Mac commented, finishing off her breakfast.
"Are you going to get started?" Harm asked.
"I guess," Mac answered reluctantly. "The sooner I get started, hopefully the sooner I can get back."
"Where are you going, Colonel?" Sergei asked, looking from one to the other.
"Call me Mac," she said, "and your brother suggested last night that I head back to where we left our car near your crash site. Between your hypothermia and his injury, we need to get back to Grozny so we can get medical attention."
"And your injury, too," Harm reminded her as Sergei looked at him, confused.
"What happened to you, Harm?" Sergei asked. "I thought I remembered the Colonel said that I looked worse than you do, but I wasn't sure."
"You were a bit out of it last night," Mac replied, "but you did hear correctly. Yesterday, we got caught in the explosion of a land mine. Captain Volkonov was killed and Harm suffered a shrapnel wound."
"I am sorry to hear about Captain Volkonov," he said respectfully. "He was a good man." He was silent for a moment, then asked, concerned, "And you, Harm? How are you?"
"I'm fine," Harm said quickly with an air of indifference, before Mac could say otherwise. He shot her a look and continued, "My side is painful and it hurts to walk, but I'll be fine. Anyway, Mac, you should get going."
Sergei went into the tent, allowing them some privacy. "Harm," Mac sighed.
"I'll be fine," he insisted, his hand pressed against her cheek. "I'm feeling better and so is Sergei. We can keep an eye on each other until you get back."
Mac sighed heavily. "I just wish that there was another way," she said.
"But there isn't," he reminded her. "The radio's broken and, even if you knew what was wrong with it, there's no guarantee you could fix it. Do you have the keys to the car?"
"Now you ask me that," she said, shaking her head. "Actually, I got the keys off. . . .his body when I went through his backpack."
They were both silent for a moment, remembering, then Harm said softly, "You should get going." He paused a moment, then leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers in a feather-light kiss.
Mac pulled away and headed for the door, pausing in the doorway to look back at him. Managing a small smile for him, she turned and walked out into the frigid December air.
"When are you going to tell her?" a voice behind him asked. Harm turned around slowly to see Sergei standing just outside the tent, studying him intently.
"What do you mean?" Harm countered, pretending that he didn't know what Sergei was talking about.
"Colonel Mackenzie," Sergei clarified, nodding towards the doorway she had just gone through. "When are you going to tell her you love her."
"Sergei, it's not that simple," Harm said sadly, staring up at the damaged ceiling.
"It should be," Sergei countered, unable to understand his brother. He barely knew Harm and Mac, yet it was very obvious to him. "So why is it not that simple?"
"Sergei," Harm exclaimed, exasperated. Shaking his head, he finally replied quietly, "She's marrying someone else."
"What?" Sergei exclaimed, unable to reconcile what he had just seen between Harm and Mac with what Harm was telling him. "What I just saw was not a woman in love with someone else. Where is this man she is marrying?"
"He's in Washington," Harm replied. "Look, why am I even talking about this with you?"
"He is in Washington and she is here," Sergei continued, ignoring Harm's last statement. "She has followed you to Russia for the third time and her fiancé is in America. Does that not say something to you? And what about you? You obviously love her. So why is she marrying someone else?"
"She didn't follow me to Russia the last time," Harm countered, ignoring the rest of what Sergei had said. "She was sent to Russia by the Admiral. . . ."
Sergei interrupted, "But she did follow you to Chechnya. And what about the rest?"
"What it says to me is. . . .I don't know what it says to me," Harm replied, frustrated. "She tried to tell me how she felt, but a few days later she shows up wearing his ring. I couldn't say anything after that. She made her choice. It's not my place to interfere."
"Even if you love her?" Sergei asked, still confused. He had thought his brother was a smart man, but now he wasn't so sure. "What about this talk you are going to have with her? If it is not your place to interfere, what were you going to tell her?"
Harm sighed. That was the question he'd been wrestling with since their kiss when he'd found out she'd thrown away her career for him. He'd told her that it was too late. But was it really? What did it say about her relationship with Mic that she was take off her engagement ring and follow another man halfway around the world? He just didn't know. "How did you know about that anyway?" he asked.
"When I woke up, I was going outside when I heard you and Colonel Mackenzie talking," Sergei revealed. "So what are you going to tell her? If you love her and she loves you as I think you do, give her a reason not to marry this other man."
"I don't know if. . . ." Harm began, suddenly stopping and holding his side. Sergei looked at him with concern.
"What is it?" he asked as Harm began unzipping his parka. He pulled up his shirts, both with a red stain over the area of his injury, to find the makeshift bandage that Mac had tied on soaked through, blood seeping out to stain the waistband of his pants.
"Sit," Sergei said, pushing Harm to the ground. "Do you have something else that we can use as a bandage?"
"I don't know," Harm replied, his voice tired. "I'm not sure what we kept from the three backpacks after. . . .maybe in the backpack in the tent."
Sergei went to check, returning after a moment with a t-shirt. "This was all I could find," he said.
"It will be good enough for now," Harm said, taking a deep breath despite the burning pull in his side. He untied the long johns as Sergei folded the shirt. Harm took the shirt and placed it over the two shirts already pressed against the wound and retied the bandage before straightening his clothes. "Mac will be back soon with the car."
"Why don't you lie down?" Sergei suggested, holding his hand out to help Harm up. Harm stood with difficulty, then slumped back against the wall, feeling slightly dizzy from the blood loss. Sergei rushed forward, grabbing Harm to keep him from falling to the ground. He helped Harm into the tent and back into his sleeping bag, zipping it up around him.
"You need to lie down yourself," Harm said weakly. "You don't look all that great yourself."
Sergei nodded and settled into his own sleeping bag. He closed his eyes, intending to sleep until he heard Harm's voice.
"Talk to me," Harm said. "I want to stay awake until Mac gets back."
Sergei smiled, seeing the perfect opening. "Tell me about Colonel Mackenzie," he encouraged. "How did you meet?"
Harm smiled at the memories, surprising Sergei somewhat by not protesting the topic. His brother definitely had it bad. Only he needed to be convinced of that. "It was in a Rose Garden. . . ."
JAG HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON DC
As soon as Clay had gotten the call from Sokol, he had called and woken AJ up at home. Realizing the gravity of the situation, AJ had in turn placed calls to Mic and to Trish and Frank, requesting that everyone meet at JAG as soon as possible. Given the very early hour of the morning, all of them were gathered within half an hour of Clay receiving the call from Russia.
"I had some news from Major Sokol," Clay began, keeping a tight lid on his emotions. He wasn't used to showing how much he cared. "Last night, he received a phone call from Grozny reporting Chechen rumors of a Russian Army officer found in the woods, killed by a land mine. This morning, some Russian troops were sent to check it out and they confirmed the officers identity. It was Captain Volkonov."
"He was the officer traveling with Sarah and Rabb, wasn't he?" Mic asked, even as he knew the answer. Clay would not have called them all together in the middle of the night if it was otherwise. Clay reluctantly nodded his confirmation, bringing a gasp from Trish.
"What about Harm and Mac?" Frank asked, clasping Trish's hand.
"There were footprints leading away from the blast site," Clay revealed. "The Russians believe that they were able to walk away from the explosion. However, there was some blood in a location away from Volkonov's body, which leads them to believe that one of them was injured in the blast."
"But we don't know which one?" Mic asked, his anger mounting. Damn Rabb and his obsessive crusades. If Sarah had been hurt because of him. . . .
"No, we don't," Clay replied. "The Russians are mounting a search for them. . . ." Clay hesitated, which AJ picked up on immediately.
"Webb, what aren't you telling us?" AJ demanded, a warning tone to his voice.
Clay sighed, replying, "AJ, their cover over there was as human rights observers who were being escorted around by a Russian officer."
"And the Russians have no great love of human rights observers," AJ finished.
"Sokol is doing everything he can," Clay continued. "He's on his way to Chechnya as we speak."
"Then so am I," Mic declared, his voice edgy. "I'm sorry, Admiral, but I should never have let you talk me out of going."
"Mic, just a minute," AJ said, trying to calm the other man. "What exactly are you going to do over there? Do you think the Russians are going to welcome you with open arms?"
"I don't care," Mic began, only to be interrupted by Clay.
"Damn it, Brumby," Clay exclaimed. This was what he'd tried to avoid by getting AJ to talk Mic out of going to Russia. "Give your head a shake. This isn't about you and your girlfriend."
Mic was about to reply until he got help from an unexpected quarter. "I want to go to Russia, too," Trish said, as everyone else turned to look at her.
"Trish, I don't think that's a good idea," Frank began, but Trish shook her head.
"Frank, if Harm is out there somewhere injured," Trish explained, "I need to be there when they find him. Harm has to know. . . ." she stopped, putting her hand over her mouth as she struggled to hold back tears. She had already lost her husband to that country and didn't know what she would do if she lost her son as well.
"Trish, Harm doesn't blame you for what you said," Frank tried to console her.
Trish shook her head, her voice stronger as she continued firmly, "I'm going to Russia. Harm is going to need me. And what if he doesn't find Sergei? You know that will destroy him after what happened to his father."
"Webb, what if we all go?" AJ suggested, looking for a compromise. "When Harm and Mac are found, I assume they will be returning to Moscow, especially if one or both of them are injured. We can be there in Moscow when they arrive."
Clay considered. It would give everyone what they wanted, to go to Russia, and yet he could work to keep them out of Chechnya. It wasn't like there were passenger flights there and he doubted any of them were as industrious as Mac and would try to travel to Chechnya in a taxi. He looked around the room, his gaze finally settling on AJ. "Visa permits for five?" he asked.
"Do it, Webb," AJ ordered, "and see about getting all of us a flight."
"Admiral, I have a suggestion, since time is a consideration," Frank said. "I have a private jet. It doesn't have the range to get us all the way to Moscow. We'd have to stop in England to refuel. But it would get us to Russia faster than waiting for a commercial flight tonight."
"Webb, can we get clearance for a private jet to land in Moscow?" AJ asked. Clay nodded. "Then do it. Mr. Burnett, I know you need to file a flight plan. What time can everyone be ready to leave?"
"I just need until about seven to let my office know that I have an emergency," Mic said. "I can call from the airport."
"Okay, let's say we leave just after seven, if Webb can make the visa arrangements by then," AJ suggested. Clay nodded again. "What airport are you at, Mr. Burnett?"
"Dulles," Frank replied.
"Then why don't we meet at Dulles at six," AJ suggested. Mic, Trish and Frank quickly made their goodbyes and left.
"What are you going to tell the SecNav?" Clay asked, intensely curious. He'd been present for AJ's last conversation with the man. "You told him that Rabb and Mackenzie were on assignment."
"I know what I told him," AJ retorted, going through a stack of folders on his desk, trying to figure out which ones he needed to delegate out before he left. "I told him they were on assignment. I never said where."
"AJ," Clay began. AJ looked up at him expectantly. "I'm sure they will be fine."
"You'd better hope they are, Webb," AJ warned. "Because if they aren't, a broken nose will be the least of your worries."
Clay resisted the urge to sigh. That was why he hadn't wanted to go to Russia.
FOUR HOURS LATER
CHECHEN FOREST
"Harm, Sergei," Mac called, out of breath. After parking the car again on the side of the highway at the closest point to their location, she had run through the snow the nearly two kilometers back to the cabin, knowing that time was probably of the essence.
"Colonel, come here," Sergei called back from inside the tent. Mac stuck her head inside the tent and was shaken to find Sergei checking the dressings on Harm's wound, which were soaked through with blood.
"What happened?" she whispered as she climbed inside, kneeling at Harm's side. She pressed her palm to his forehead, relieved that he didn't have a fever. But his face was very pale, nearly as pale as Sergei's frostbitten one. "Harm?"
"Started bleeding more," he replied weakly, "just after you left. You got the car?"
Mac nodded, fighting to hold it together, now glad that Harm had persuaded her to go get the car. If the bleeding didn't stop, Harm wasn't going to make it staying out here.
"Then we need to get going," Harm said.
Mac was torn. One the one hand, she was very concerned about moving Harm given his worsening condition. But if they didn't get to the car and get back to Grozny, it was possible Harm could die out here. She looked at Sergei, trying to gauge his condition.
"I am okay," Sergei said in response to the unasked question. "I will help support Harm."
Mac nodded mutely, helping Harm into a sitting position as he straightened his clothes. "Mac, it will be okay," he whispered, leaning against her.
She nodded again. "I made you a promise, remember?" she pointed out. Harm nodded, managing a weak smile.
With Sergei's help, she got Harm on his feet and out of the tent. She glanced at the backpack, sleeping bags and tent, then decided it was best to leave them behind. It wasn't that far to the car and they needed to move as quickly as possible.
"Come on, let's go, Sailor," she whispered as they left the cabin.
MIC'S APARTMENT
Mic quickly tossed some clothes in a small suitcase and snapped it shut, not bothering to check what he had packed. If he needed anything else, he figured he could buy it in Moscow. All that mattered right now was getting to Mac. He double-check his coat, making sure his passport was in the inside pocket, and was about to walk out the door when he stopped suddenly.
He wasn't sure why he suddenly remembered that he and Renee had planned to have breakfast together. Maybe subconsciously, he thought that she might like to be made aware of the situation. Setting down his suitcase, he picked up the phone and dialed.
"'Lo," a sleepy voice answered on the other end.
"Renee, it's Mic," he said.
Renee sat straight up in bed, a small part of her concerned, despite her anger at Harm. "Do you know what time it is?" she asked. "Is this about Harm?"
"I'm on my way to Russia with the Admiral, Clayton Webb and Rabb's parents," he explained.
"So you decided to go after your fiancée after all," Renee concluded, a bit shortly. "Good for you. I take it that means you won't be making our breakfast?"
"Renee, don't you care what's happening to Rabb in Russia?" Mic asked, a little surprised at her attitude and his. Why did he care so much about Harm and Renee's relationship?
"I care in that I hope he doesn't get himself killed," she retorted. "Other than that, I have come to the conclusion that I am tired of coming in second place to his career and his obsessions. Don't you get tired of the same thing with Mac?"
"It's not coming in second place to Sarah's career that concerns me," Mic replied softly.
"There's that, too," Renee agreed. "I guess that's why he's been so reluctant to commit to me." Renee sighed. She'd really thought Harmon Rabb was the one for her – at least if she'd been able to get him to leave the Navy for her. "Well, have a good trip. Tell Harm 'It's been nice' when you see him."
"Maybe you'd like to tell him that yourself," Mic suggested. He wasn't sure he wanted to go wading into those waters.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Renee said. "Goodbye."
"Renee," Mic said before she could hang up. "I think I'll have a lot of free time when I return from Russia. Rain check on our breakfast?"
"I guess I'm not the only one who came to that conclusion," she pointed out. "Sure, rain check. Just give me a call when you get back." She hung up the phone before he could say anything else.
Mic stared at the phone for a long moment before he placed it back on the base. He'd never thought he'd give up on Mac so easily. Then again, maybe it wasn't so easy after ten months of waiting for her to make a decision that her heart wasn't really into. He picked up his suitcase again and walked out the door, locking it behind him.
HIGHWAY M-29
CHECHNYA
Despite it only being two kilometers from the cabin to where Mac had parked the car, it took the three of them nearly an hour to make the trek through the snow. Harm had steadily grown weaker as they had traveled until Mac and Sergei were pretty much dragging him between them. Mac was amazed at how well Sergei was holding up considering that between the onset of hypothermia and frostbite, he was not in any condition for a trek through the woods himself.
Reaching the car, Mac left Harm and Sergei leaning against the trunk while she struggled to unlock a door that she'd had unlocked just two hours earlier. Finally, after a struggle during which she'd nearly broken the key in the lock, she got it unlocked and pulled the driver's door open, quickly unlocking the back door. "Let's lay him across the back seat," she suggested as she opened the door. With Sergei's help, Harm stumbled along the side of the car, leaning against it as he made his way to the door and crawled into the car, Sergei climbing in behind him.
"I will sit back here with him," Sergei said, settling uncomfortably on the floor in front of the seat.
"Good," Mac said, getting behind the wheel, her voice business-like even as she was scared inside. "Why don't you try to keep some pressure on the wound, see if the bleeding will slow down. The good news is that we're not that far from Grozny. The bad news is the roads are icy so it will be slow going in places. Sergei, I want you to let me know immediately if he gets worse back there."
"I'll be fine," Harm insisted, his words slurred. "Just get us to Grozny."
"I will," she promised, looking back at him and giving him a comforting smile. "Sergei, how are you doing?"
"I am fine," he lied. He was tired and cold again from their trek to the car. But he thought Mac had enough to worry about with Harm in the condition he was in.
Mac wasn't quite convinced, knowing that if he was anything like his brother he was probably minimizing his own condition. But they would be back at Grozny soon, where they could at least get some rudimentary medical treatment until they could be transported to a hospital. She turned around in her seat and turned the key in the ignition, resisting the urge to groan in frustration when the engine wouldn't turn over. Great, first she had a hard time getting the car unlocked and now it wouldn't start. Taking a deep breath, she turned the key again. "Thank you," she whispered as car finally started and she shifted into gear, taking off in the direction of Grozny.